These Dreams
by Spouse of Orestes
Summary: Post Last Battle, Susan is plagued with vague dreams of her past. A one-shot story created out of the iPOD Shuffle Drabble Challenge.


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**__**A/N: **__I don't normally write like this because I don't really like song fics. But I was so bored one time I decided to give in. I wrote this as a part of the iPOD Shuffle Drabble Challenge. If you're not familiar with the challenge, it's basically this: Listen to a random song on your iPOD and write a fanfic based on the song during the length that it plays. I have to thank __BeautifulxxDisasterx__ who told me about this. __I didn't think about it at first, but I decided to give it a shot when I was stuck at a party with a very boring guest speaker. This isn't really drabble and I didn't exactly write all of this during the length of the song. But I did get the main idea for it while listening to a random song on my shuffle. When I got home, I wrote the rest out in full detail while playing the same song that inspired me over and over again on the background. _

_The song is the 1986 one-hit wonder by Heart called "These Dreams." (Yes I have 80s music on my iPOD because I am that old). Words and music are by Bernie Taupin and Martin Page. I don't really like the singer very much but I do like the lyrics. It doesn't really make much sense just random images one after the other but I like it just the same and I managed to do something about them that matches Susan's predicament after LB._

_**Disclaimer:**__ I don't own the Chronicles of Narnia or These Dreams. I just use them as inspiration to pass the time when I get stuck at boring parties._

**These Dreams**

The candle in her hand flickered. Most of its wax was already wasted. Only a tiny wick remained alive to keep the flame going. She knew it was about to die any minute and she was afraid of the cold that would come when the flame dies.

All around her shadows in the mist were moving…

It was the trees, she could tell. They were moving as if engaged in some kind of wild dance in the semi-darkness.

_But trees don't dance_—the logical part of her brain told her. And if they did, shouldn't she be afraid of them? Perhaps they are not trees at all but some other dangerous creatures casting shadows under the full light of the moon and the dim light of the flickering candle.

And yet she wasn't afraid of the shadows. It was the death of the flame that worried her, for then she would be cold. Only a thin dress covered her. Even in this dark she could see the paleness of her skin underneath and smell the fragrance of her expensive designer perfume. But she knew neither linen nor perfume can protect her from the cold. Only the flame can, and it was about to die out. It seemed like hours that she was in these shadows. She stared at the watch on her wrist. She could not read it. It was like her watch lost hands to tell the time.

Then through the mist she saw her: It was a little girl with a crown on her head that appeared to glow under the moonlight.

"Come, come," the little girl called out. Her voice was like a tinkling of bells and so familiar, though she couldn't seem to remember where she heard it before.

She wanted to follow but she was afraid. She was afraid of running forwards for she if she did the little flame she had left on her candle would die out.

"Hurry!" the little girl urged. "Come with me!"

"I can't," she replied. "My candle will die. Can you not just come closer to me?"

But the girl shook her. "You must come to me," the little girl insisted. "Remember, you must remember!"

But she remained still, unable to do as the girl asked. "My candle, my candle…" she pleaded to the little girl. And as soon as she said the words, the girl faded into shadows.

She awoke remembering only the mist.

* * *

The leaves were no help at all.

Some were pale green—the colour of youth and new blossoming of life. While others were orange and brown—signifying the end of the season. There were flowers freshly blooming and trees shedding their leaves. It appeared that both spring and autumn shared in this mysterious garden where she was in. She slowly walked around to investigate her surroundings. Her candle was still in her hand, its tiny flame was struggling to survive.

And then she saw something unusual: Amidst all the trees there was a wall of stained glass. Etched on it was the figure of a woman in a red dress, chain mail breastplate and a golden crown on her head. She had a sheaf of arrows tied to her back. She carried a bow with one hand and a white horn on the other.

For a long moment she stared at the figure. She couldn't explain why she was drawn towards it. Slowly she walked towards the glass wall, careful to keep the flame of her candle alive. Finally, she was close enough to touch it. When the tips of her fingers brushed against the glass she was startled to find that it wasn't solid. In fact, her hand appeared to pass through the glass as if it was nothing more than air. She moved forwards until she was able to walk into the stained glass. And once there, she found she had become the woman in the glass. She was wearing the dress and the breast plate. The bow was in her hand the feel of it was familiar as was the weight of the arrows on her back. She held up the horn in her hand and inspected it. It had a figure of a lion caved on it. The image sent a surge of joy racing to her heart. She was so overwhelmed with emotions that she began to sing a song that she couldn't remember where she had learned.

_Remember, you will remember. You led another life in Nar—. _She heard a voice say in her head. But she shook it away for she suddenly remembered she dropped her candle when she walked into the wall. She searched frantically around her and found it was on the ground outside the wall. Its flame was flickering and close to dying. She rushed out of the stained glass so fast that it broke into a million pieces. And yet she found there was not a scratch on her. She hurriedly picked up the candle and nursed the flame with her hand.

She turned back to the now fragmented glass wall. There were still traces of the image of the woman etched on the glass and she struggled to remember what it looked like along with the voice that spoke to her in her head. What was that word it was about to say? It seemed so important that she knew. Somehow, deep down she already knew what it was. She tried to speak it. The word appeared familiar as if it was at the tip of her tongue. And yet when she opened her mouth to speak it, it would not come. At the same time her vision was blurring. The image of the garden was disappearing until all she could see was the faint flame of the candle in her hand.

She awoke to find herself in tears for a nameless thing that she lost.

She wiped away her tears, got up and headed towards her vanity table. There was an invitation to a ball neatly placed there amidst her make-up and toiletries. She suddenly realized she had dozed off and she would be late for the ball if she didn't get ready now. She stared at her puffy eyes in the mirror and realized she had to do something about her appearance. But before she could even pick up the concealer, she noticed the framed photograph on the other end of her vanity table. She picked it up instead. Three smiling faces stared back at her.

Peter. Edmund. Lucy.

Her heart clenched painfully at the thought of them. She wondered why she still kept their photograph here on her vanity when it only pained her every time she saw it. She thought maybe she should put it away, just like the picture of her parents.

Yes, that was it. She should keep their photo away. It was for the best. She headed towards her desk, intending to hide away that picture away in a drawer. It had no place in her vanity anyway. Her vanity table was the place where she could look pretty, where she could be comforted, knowing she was preparing to go out for good company. Company that can make her forget about the tragedy in her life.

And yet when she opened her desk drawer, she found she couldn't put the picture in. She returned it on her vanity and stared at it for a long time.

It took her an even longer time to realize that her tears were falling again.

The ball invitation never got used. It ended up on her trash can that night along with a dozen make-up items.

The picture remained on her vanity.

* * *

The room hung heavily with smoke and noisy chatter.

Normally she lived for these places. Yet, tonight she wanted none of it. She longed for fresh air in silence.

She regretted coming tonight but what was she to say to her friends if she skipped tonight's activities? She already missed out on a number of parties in the last few weeks. Her friends would think her odd if she missed out on this one. It was the most important party of them all for her social life. Everyone who was anyone in London was here.

"Lovely evening is it?" a gruff voice of a man spoke behind her. She answered politely almost automatically and exited with grace before he could get around to asking her to dance. She realized even without make-up, men still flocked to her. She stopped wearing make up since the night she cried over her siblings photograph on her vanity table. It just didn't seem important anymore to look so painted. And she hoped not wearing any tonight would deter the suitors. She was wrong. The moment she stepped into the room earlier this evening, she got looks from all the men that she normally got—probably even more than usual.

Intimacy with a man was something she always avoided. Even when she threw herself at parties and dressed herself to the nines in womanly fashion, she never had a lover. She liked being flattered by men. But when any serious suitor would go further to attempt intimacy with her, she brushed him off. Most of the girls in her social circle thought she never let herself have a boyfriend because she was too vain and liked to play around. The more malicious ones thought she was a queer and preferred the company of women.

She couldn't explain it herself. Yet she knew she could never be with a man because none of the men she encountered ever measured to an unknown criteria she appeared to have set for herself.

She walked towards the balcony away from the smoke and the noise. She breathed the air. Though it was a relief from the suffocating fumes inside, it still felt stale. She remembered breathing pure, crisp air and longed for it though she cannot seem to recall where she felt it.

She closed her eyes, and willed herself to shut out the noise from the party. All at once images came clearly into her mind. She was dreaming again though she knew she was wide awake this time.

She was back in the misty forest. And this time she wasn't alone. Men, hundreds of them clustered around her. They were men of social rank, wealth and power. They were princes of their own little worlds and they all offered her gifts just to be with them. She longed for release away from their company.

And then from far away, she saw him.

He was different from the others. He looked simpler than the princes who offered proposals to her. And he moved in way that he appeared to be walking on air. He held her gaze and she could sense his words calling out to her. He was telling her to come to him and be comforted with a kiss that could free her from the company of all these men, from this world.

She knew this was no prince but a king. He was the one that set the standard why none of the other princes can ever measure up. Yet she could not see his face. It was hidden in the mist. He was fading fast and she knew he would continue to do so while she hesitated.

She opened her eyes and found herself back in the cold balcony.

There was another man next to her. He offered her a glass of sherry. He was trying to make polite conversation. He was another prince of this world, offering to make her a princess.

But she didn't want that.

She was a queen in another life. And she will be a queen once again.

She politely excused herself and walked out of the balcony. She crossed the room of noisy guests and headed for the door.

She left the party and never looked back again.

_**A/N again: **__For anyone who's too young to know what the song is, here are the lyrics:_

_Spare a little candle, save some light for me_

_Figures up ahead, moving in the trees_

_White skin in linen, perfume on my wrist_

_And the full moon that hangs over_

_These dreams in the mist_

_OOO_

_Darkness on the edge, shadows where I stand_

_I search for the time on a watch with no hands_

_I want to see you clearly, come closer than this_

_But all I remember are the dreams in the mist_

_OOO_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes_

_Every second of the night, I live another life_

_These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside_

_Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm awake_

_OOO_

_Is it cloak or dagger, could it be spring or fall_

_I walk without a cut through a stained glass wall_

_Weaker in my eyesight, the candle in my grip_

_And words that have no form, are falling from my lips_

_OOO_

_These dreams go on when I close my eyes_

_Every second of the night, I live another life_

_These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside_

_Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm awake_

_OOO_

_There's something out there, I can't resist_

_I need to hide away from pain_

_There's something out there, I can't resist_

_OOO_

_The sweetest song is silence that I've ever heard_

_Funny how your feet in dreams never touch the earth_

_In a wood full of princes, freedom is a kiss_

_But the prince hides his face_

_From the dreams in the mist_


End file.
